Page 56 of Red Zone Realizations
Now that yoga is over and my body is tired, I have to find something to do with my mind for the next eight hours.
Excellent. I can still fit in a whole workday.
Nicole arrives at two with a huge backpack on her shoulder. “What’s all that?” I ask. She’s already dressed in her game-day outfit, so it’s not her change of clothes.
“Makeup, duh. Your skin needs to look just as stunning as all those gifts you’re wearing, babe.”
The sleek black Town Car Noah sends arrives at five on the dot. I’ve been ready to go for about an hour. My hair is hot curled into big waves, my makeup is more than I normally wear, but not anywhere near full glam. I’ve got on my new jeans and strappy heels, but tonight it’s topped off with Noah’s jersey and everything else that he had delivered.
I tuck the purse Noah gifted me over my arm and look at Nicole. “Are we doing this?”
She throws her arms around me in a tight hug, and I breathe in her lavender scent. “You are.” She pulls back and looks right at me. “And you deserve it. Everything.” I smile back. My best friend who knows how I’ve struggled, doubted, and hurt. We’re both ready for me to be happy.
I drop my hand to hers and grasp it hard as we step out of the door.
The stadium is huge and looming as we pull up. I stare out the window like the main character in a rom-com, pulling up to her new destination for the first time. It’s giving LizzieMcGuire in Rome. Davide parks the car, and I unbuckle. He comes around to my side to open the door. “I’ll be outside this same exit when your evening is over.”
I smile. “Thank you, Davide.”
I start off a little wobbly in my heels on the pocked concrete, but I quickly gain my balance, leaning on Nicole, just as I always have.
The passes on the lanyard Davide gave us make getting into the stadium easy. A young woman with tight curls walks right up to us and tells us to follow her. Her own lanyard says Lydia on it. We walk behind Lydia as she weaves through the crowd. I recognize a few people from the day I was here for preseason and from Jaden’s house, so I assume this is the friends and family area of the stadium. My nerves grow as we walk, a tightness in my shoulders and stomach.
Rows of suites roll out in front of us. I peek into each one as we pass. One has walls covered in gold. Lydia sees me looking and says, “That’s the owner's box. It was handed down to him by his parents. He grew up in Houston and went to college here as well.”
“That’s really cool. Like homegrown.”
She leads us to a box filled with people. This must be a box that Noah and a couple other players pay for so their families can watch the game peacefully. When I step in it feels like a hundred eyes turn to me. There’s a pause, but maybe only I can feel the tension. Might be all in my head. Smiles break out and I lower my shoulders back down from my ears. I’m glad Noah got me all this over-the-top stuff. I feel like I fit in better with the other women. Of course, Chrissy was so welcoming that first day, but I didn’t know if that would last up to this point. Everyone is all smiles until the small talk inevitablyturns to children, and when I don’t have any of my own to coo over, I’m quickly left behind.
A smile breaks across my face when I finally spot Chrissy standing near the bar. I speed walk to her side, Nicole following me like a lost puppy. “Thank God you’re here!”
She turns to me, and I get the full brunt of her sunshine demeanor. “Thank Godyou’rehere! I thought things didn’t work out with Noah!”
I wince. “I haven’t really spoken to him, but he sent flowers and tickets and this jersey.” I motion with my hands to the huge forty-nine on my chest.
Chrissy tuts like only a southern woman can. “You poor thing. Men’s heads can be thicker than the walls of this stadium.”
I remember Nicole behind me. “This is my best friend, Nicole.”
“Lovely to meet you! Come sit by me for the game. It should be a good one!”
Seeing the stadium full of cheering fans is a different vibe than when I was touring around the practice campus previously. Could that have been less than a month ago? It feels like years have passed since Noah had his arms around me; since we kissed on the practice field, the white lines spreading out from us in every direction.
When the announcer starts to bring in the home team, we get to our feet. The stadium lights dim, spotlights appear, and the announcer’s voice booms over the speakers. In the home corner, the cheerleaders shake their pom-poms and smoke floats away from the tunnel.
“ANNDDD NOWWWWWW,” the announcer begins. “YOUR HOUSTON HURRICANES STARTING LINEUP!”
Chrissy, Nicole, and I are full-on screaming. Polite, lady-like cheering is forgotten as the announcer calls Noah’s name. “From Houston University, tight end, Noah Fox!” My heart soars. It’s so light I almost can’t take it. I have no idea what he will say when he sees me. I just know it can’t be goodbye.
My feet hurt from stomping and my hands sting from clapping as the rest of the team comes out of the tunnel. Finally, Colin is announced and runs in carrying a Texas flag while classic rock blares through the speakers. We continue to scream at the top of our lungs as the guys meet on the field and do an extensive handshake.
The game holds my rapt attention. This is my first time at a professional football game and it’s so much more hardcore in real life. I watched Noah’s last game on TV and was shocked at the brutality of it all, but hearing the hits in person as they collide is a bit horrifying. Noah on the field is not the same man I know who cooks homemade dinners and has a crush on Lara Croft. He’s aggressive. He seems sure-footed. The grit and power he displays when he blocks is overwhelming to watch. I know level-headed, thoughtful, careful, balanced, loyal Noah, but the Noah on the field is all athlete, all competition.
It’s driving me wild.
I’m practically vibrating in my seat as the half comes to a close. It’s tied twenty-two to twenty-two. I’m watching the team run into the locker room for halftime when I see a girl I’ve never met standing next to Chrissy. “Nash! Wyatt is doing great!” We all rise to let the new girl into our row, and I realize how freaking tall she is. She’s easily six feet, built lithe and long.
She clasps her hands in front of her. “I know, I’m so glad! He was a bit nervous about this game. The Cleveland Vultures are nothing to joke about, even though we’re favored by three-and-a-half points in the spread.” Her eyes fall on me (and it’s a long way down to my height). “I don’t think we’ve met.” She sticks out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Nash.”
